He had broken it. He had broken the vow he had made to himself when he first saw Christine and now he was paying for it. Sherlock sighed. It was never supposed to be like this. He was supposed to woo her and then get her to fall in love with him then in good time they would be married in the most beautiful fashion he could think of. Suddenly a sharp blast of noise rolled through the cavern startling Sherlock. He lay there for a second, his body primed to move a moment's notice as the taste of adrenaline flooded his mouth. There was sharp click above him and with a hiss of breath, grabbed the dagger he hid underneath his pillow for emergencies and drove it into the shadowy figure above him. Then the creature was gone; no noise accompanied its leaving, but the heavy scent of blood told Sherlock he wounded it badly. Laying his head back unto the pillow, he contemplated who the creature was. It was anything he had met before that means it had invaded his home, but for what reason? Sherlock glanced at the clock on his bedside, the date burning into the blackness of the room in neon green as Sherlock closed his eyes.
"The date!" Sherlock's eyes snapped open and violently grabbing the clock read and reread the date. It was the day he brought Christine down to his home, not two days after as it should be. He placed his head back on the pillow, his clock still in his hand, and thought about what had happened.
"It couldn't be possible. I felt it. She was there, I was there and we were…" Sherlock checked himself and discovered that everything was still intact which meant he had broken his vow at all. During this the sudden memory of his father explaining it to him brought a small smile to his face. He could see the man who he thought loved him stutter and skip over the words, trying not to be blunt to the maturing teen who was trying hard not to laugh at him. Sherlock closed his eyes and allowed himself to be taken away by the memory.
"Sherlock, I want to talk to you about something." The sharp scent antiseptic filled the sterile room. "Since you are now becoming a young man who will have physical emotions to certain stimuli. I wish to teach you what will happen so you are prepared to deal with it when it does commence." Sherlock listened with a keen ear what his father told him. He knew from before that man had to deal with certain groin issues and that it was caused by blood rushing to the area. But the one interesting fact that he had learned was that unlike the other men though, he had proof that he was a virgin. There was small flap of skin over his entirety that would tear away when he mated with his lover.
"Sherlock, I want you to remain that way until you find your mate. Do you understand me? This act of honor will prove to her that you will know what you are doing."
Sherlock opened his eyes. He felt happiness flood his system about his good luck with Christine and not sharing that with her until they were married, yet who was the strange creature. Turning over, Sherlock went to take Christine into his arms and hold her until he fell back to sleep when panic took him. She wasn't there. There was an indention in the pillow that was next him where her head laid, but there was no Christine and with panic now fully set in, Sherlock heaved himself out of bed and quickly getting dressed, raced upstairs into his Opera House.
The pain was excruciating as I pulled myself through the tunnels that lined the Phantom's lair. I knew where they led and the one that I was in took me all the way to the Old City. Water rushed past my knees, drawing away the blood that dripped from the wound I received and any heat I had left in my body. Pressing my hand to my stomach even harder, I willed the blood to stop flowing long enough to allow me to get to the small room under the Tardis hanger. If I didn't…I quickly shook the thought from my head and empowering myself, continued forward, a giant in the river of icy water.
I didn't mean to do it, it just happened and I wanted to cry. It was Erik. I didn't know what dream he was having, but with all the thrashing he woke me and like any good friend, I tried to pin him down. But before I could I saw his eyes flare open, the pale blue startling against the black around him as a sharp pain lanced through me. It was then that I knew what he done. Reaching down, I pulled the dagger from my side and dropped it onto the mattress as blood flowed in red rivers down my skin, soaking my shirt. Heaving myself off of the bed, I ran. I ran into the water and into one of the tunnels and continued running until I had to stop and there before me, lit by the dawn filtering through small cracks in the cavernous celing above my head, was the Old City.
The Old City; a city built for beauty and intellligence in the middle of the bleak Gallifreyan landscape. Designed during the First Time War, the city was meant to be a stronghold against enemy forces; the arcitecture made to withstand extremely powerful explosions. But as the Time War came to a close, the Gallifreyan High Council decided it would be more pertanit to use the city's defenses as a stronghold of Gallifreyan knowledge insted. For many decades, the Old City was a beacn of hope in a war ravaged world, yet like all beautiful things, the Old City became obsolite to the new technology of the Gallifreyans and was covered to make way for the Citadel and at its heart ,the Academy.
Now I stood here. The ruins of the Old City before me every elegant pillar holding up the New City and across this span was a single decorative pillar crumbling with age, a gateway into freedom.
"Don't look down, Chris." I murmured as I placed one shaky foot on the granite bridge followed by another. As I stared straight ahead, blackness began to descend and adrenaline kicked in. My once horrible balance was quickly corrected as I put on a burst of speed, my bare feet hammering against the old stone. I heard chunks fall into the darkness below me and all around me. I saw my goal and with a mighty leap, fell into oblivion.